A Friendly Wager
by The Candlestick Maker
Summary: She was shocked when Rachel Berry had asked her out - there was no way she would even consider the offer. Santana reasoned that all she needed was a friendly push. Who better to give her that shove then her best friends? Lovesick!Rachel and Clueless!Quinn
1. Chapter 1

**A Friendly Wager**

**Chapter 1**

**Author's Note**: Based on the episode of Degrassi where J.T asks out Paige. Had that date gone on better… Might be multi-chapter.

* * *

><p>"Oh look, it's Frodo from the shire." Santana had whispered into her ear as she spotted the approaching diva, travelling at light speed. The statement earned her a shove from Brittany who whispered 'quit it, she's nice, San' before the offending Latina stopped snickering.<p>

"Excuse me, Quinn?" The brunette had queried awkwardly, looking the former head cheerleader up and down. "May I say that you look rather radiant today, as you always do…though even more so today if that's even possible -"

"Cut to the chase, Frodo."

"Oh um..." The brunette fumbled, running her words together as she concentrated on getting them out. "Would you mind, if you're not busy...consider…um….possibly…"Quinn raised an eyebrow, waiting impatiently. "Going out with me?"

Confused, Quinn kept her mouth shut, waiting for the brunette to explain. "You see, I'm just asking for one date, one chance to make you see the real me. If we click, then we can figure out where we go from there. Commitment and such."

Internally battling with herself, Quinn cringed out of pity. The girl in front of her was so awkward, so tongue-tied. Was this how she'd stolen Finn from her last year? She smirked, wondering how such a ruse would have worked.

Suddenly, she broke down into laughter, and turning away, led her friends into the girls' bathroom, where she knew Rachel Berry wouldn't follow them. A flash of hurt streaked across Rachel's face, though she knew Quinn had never seen it, always turning away before she could see the damage she could do her.

The door closed behind them with a thud, and in their solitude the Trio began their morning ritual, unsheathing their purses and glaring off the one or two unfortunate freshmen that didn't know any better.

Quinn reached for her eyeliner, as Santana scrutinized her complexion in the bathroom mirror. Brittany, on the other hand, did nothing, instead leaning placidly against the door. Santana always insisted she was perfect and didn't need such commodities.

"Has my reputation fallen to the point where a loser like that has the nerve to ask me out?"

At this, Brittany made it a point to frown. Beside her, Santana could feel her unease and in a fake sneering-type voice said. "It's hilarious, really. You should totally go through with it."

Quinn whirled around, hardly believing her ears. "No way in hell, Lopez." The blonde reached for the compact tucked deep inside her purse. "Besides what would Finn think?" She said, applying a little blush in the mirror.

She frowned when she heard her friends snickering behind her. Santana reasoned, leaning against the wall cordially with bent elbows. "Your boyfriend wouldn't even notice if you switched to another school."

"He's not that obtuse." She defended the boy feebly, though now that she thought about it, he always did seem so confused in Spanish, and had once confessed to her that 'it was as if they were speaking a whole other language'. As if reading her thoughts, they snickered and she cursed herself for always being so...readable.

"Please, Frankenteen tries to cheat off _Brittany_ during tests." The Latina scoffed, and then added quietly beside her. "No offense, B."

"None taken." The blonde nodded in agreement, spurring to life with enthusiasm. "Besides, Rachel's been so lonely nowadays."

"It's her choice." Quinn retorted, criticizing herself in the mirror, unhappy with what she saw. Flicking on the tap, she rinsed off the makeup and started over. "She's the one that wants to be single. Being a diva, and successful and getting out of this hell hole and all that."

"Not anymore it seems." Santana drew beside her, offering her a paper towel to dry her face. "Frodo wants you." She made kissy noises, and Quinn sneered, affectionately shoving her where Brittany could catch her.

"Go through with it. Everyone has their price. What's yours?" The Latina edged forward menacingly.

"Nothing you could pay me would ever amount to an evening of torture with Berry."

"How about I drop out of the race?"

Quinn's ears perked up, suddenly paying close attention. Knowingly, Santana smirked. "I'll drop out of the race for Prom Queen if you date Rachel Berry. And I'll encourage all my voters to transfer to you."

The blonde raised a suspicious eyebrow, still unconvinced. "Say I was interested…How am I supposed to know that you'd honor this sort of…arrangement?"

Leering at her with intent, the Latina strode forward. "I only joined in the competition to win over Brittany. Now that I have her, I don't really care. It's just a consolation that I've already won over thirty percent of the votes. Guess it goes to show how charming I am."

Bending back proudly, Santana gave her trademark smile and Quinn scoffed at her. "Fine, we have a deal."

At that, Santana bent forward intrusively towards her best friend and taking an invasive finger, smeared Quinn's makeup. With a devilish smile, she tugged on Brittany's hand, pulling them both out of the bathroom before Quinn's mini implosion.

Scowling intensely, Quinn returned her attention to the mirror and frowned at the mess her best friend had made. "Why, Santana? All I ask is why?"

* * *

><p>"It's got to be a real date. Like what Santana does with me." Brittany chirped into her ear, as the Unholy Trio made their way into Glee. Quinn shuddered, she didn't need things to get that <em>real<em>.

Sensing her unease, Brittany added happily. "Dinner and a movie."

With a sigh of relief Quinn held the door open for her. "A movie? A dark secluded place alone with Berry? No way." The former cheerleader replied haughtily. "Just dinner."

"Fine, dinner. But not at some cheap diner – you're taking her to Breadstix." Beside her, the Latina added cruelly. "And you're paying."

"Wait, what?"

"And pull her seat out for her; treat her like a lady, Q." That was Brittany, sashaying to her seat.

Uneasily, Quinn frowned. It was as if they were actually setting her up on a date…but no, that couldn't be happening. They knew she was straight as an arrow and even if she wasn't… Awkwardly, she coughed in her hand, ignoring the fleeting thought.

Santana nudged her. "Look…there she is…" She whispered in the shell of her ear. "Go get her, lady killer."

Rolling her eyes, she made her motions towards the brunette - who had obviously been crying, the bloodshot eyes giving her away. A pang of guilt stabbed her, and she drew a shallow breath, watching the way Rachel's eyes lit up when she saw her.

"Oh, Quinn." Rachel said, sniffling and wiping her eyes to no avail. "What brings me the honor, the privilege – "

Quinn raised a hand, cutting her off effectively. "I accept your offer, Berry. You and me at Breadstix. Six O'clock sharp." She turned, catching Rachel's megawatt smile anxiously cresting. "And don't be late."

* * *

><p>"Please tell me you don't plan on wearing <em>that <em>to your date." Santana's face contorted into disgust as she stared open-mouthed at the grey hooded jacket, black slacks and converse the blonde had opted to wear. Hours before her 'date', they had taken it upon themselves to invade the Fabray household and criticize her on her fashion choice.

"Why not?" Quinn asked defensively. "I don't want anyone to recognize me." To make her point clearer, she held up a pair of ominous sunglasses. "See?"

"Your date won't even recognize you."

"What's the big deal? It's Rachel! You guys are treating this as if it's a real date."

The two girls wavered quietly, guilt painting their faces and Quinn stared cotton-mouth at them. Reaching into her backpack, Brittany threw her a pair of black skinny jeans.

"At least look hot while you're doing it." She said, and Quinn jaw-dropped. What did she mean by 'it'?

"We just want to get the most out of this deal, alright? Get Berry all hot and bothered. You can't do that in that get-up."Quinn nodded satisfied with the excuse as Santana produced a purple cardigan, and shoved it at her. "These are our extra-slushy clothes, now that we actually need them…"

In her bedroom, Quinn sighed, only a little apologetic. "I'm sorry about making us quit the Cheerios. Totally ruined my extracurricular on my college app…But I did it for Finn."

"You didn't do it for Finn." Santana muttered in a hush voice, glowering when Quinn looked at her as if posing a question. "Just get dressed."

* * *

><p>At six sharp, Quinn stood outside of Breadstix warily, with a handful of babysitting money tucked into the back pocket of her jeans, which Santana had deemed 'Fabray-ulous'. With a deep breath, she pulled into the restaurant and immediately caught sight of the short brunette situated in the center of the room, already seated.<p>

She was looking around warily, as if looking for her date. Nervously, she fumbled with her fingers and occasionally pulled a small, star-shaped mirror from her purse, studying her complexion with a fine eye. Quinn smiled at this, she was almost cute when she was this nervous. _Wait, cute?_

Shaking the thought aside, she mustered a hard face and pushed her way through the dense atmosphere, standing at the table Rachel had reserved, smirking when the girl looked up at her with surprise.

"I didn't think you'd actually come." She gaped.

Studying the other girl, Quinn took a seat and breathed out. "I'm on honor roll, straight A student, I was accepted into Stanford and forced to work with Sue Sylvester of all people. Expect punctuality."

Rachel laughed, a hearty sound, and Quinn smiled gingerly. "So I see, Quinn. It's a very favorable quality."

"Favorable? Please elaborate." Smirking, Quinn crossed her legs under the table.

The brunette blushed intensely at the question, mentally debating her answer. "Attractive, yes. But then again, everything about you is."

Slack-jawed, Quinn chuckled, uncrossing her legs and smiling, greatly diffusing the tension. "Haven't you seen the posters yet? They're plastered all over the school. That's me - _I'm_ Lucy Caboosey."

Rachel coughed into her hand awkwardly, her nervousness made Quinn hesitantly grin wider. "You look completely amazing, Quinn. You can balloon up or shrink down, switch back to coke-bottle glasses, and shed your designer clothes for heavy, turtle-neck sweaters but as long as you smile like that…the way that you do – you can light up the world."

Her voice was sincere, so much so that the sound of it made Quinn's breath hitch in her throat, and she folded her hands on top of the table purposefully.

"Can I ask you a question?" Quinn said, leaning in. Blushing furiously, Rachel nodded. "Why now? Why me? I thought you were so into Finn last year and now, it's me."

"It's not that easy. I mean, I didn't just flick a switch and choose to think of you like this. It's just…during our duet we seemed to have a lot of chemistry. More so, than I've had with any of my male leads. Not as though, I hadn't felt it before - because I have. I just assumed that the feeling was loathing though." Shyly, Rachel crossed her index fingers. "Not attraction."

"You felt chemistry?" Motioning between, pointing to some invisible connection, Quinn inquired as though it were the most unnatural thing she'd ever heard. Which it would have been had Brittany not decided to share with her, her great knowledge about cat diseases. Shudder. "Between us?"

"Didn't you?"

Quinn took a deep breath, in the corner of her eye suddenly aware that Brittany and Santana were at the next table, watching her with anticipation. "Yes."

A waiter circuited by, dropping their menus in front of them and as Rachel studied the list for vegan entrees, she sneered towards her two best friends. Unfailingly, they gave her sarcastic thumbs-ups and she face-palmed defeated.

"Jerks." She muttered, quiet enough to prevent Rachel from hearing her. "Complete jerks."

* * *

><p>Their date ended some two hours later, after the vegan stir-fry and Quinn's steak and after they had both fought over who would pay the bill, a battle Quinn had eagerly won. Quinn had pulled out Rachel's seat as she stood up, being greeted with a quiet 'how chivalrous of you, Quinn' which made her smile until she felt sick with herself.<p>

They had headed outside, shoes clacking against the sidewalk, drifting closely beside each other, though not hand-in-hand when Rachel had stopped suddenly just as they were about to part ways.

"Quinn, may I ask you something?"

The blonde nodded amicably, halting in her tracks and whirling towards the brunette, who was nervously playing with her hands, folding and unfolding them.

"It's just…I might…never get the chance to do this again…and I really want to…I always want things so much..." She stumbled over her words.

"What is it, Berry?" There was no answer, so she gave in, her curiosity getting the best of her. "Just go for it."

And like that, Rachel leaned forward, wordlessly reaching up and pressing her lips against Quinn's. Her jaw dropped in shock and Rachel eagerly took advantage of her unpreparedness, wrapping her tongue around hers. In the heated battle she was having with her own internal voices, Quinn never found the willpower to separate their bodies. Rachel, surprisingly, was the one to pull them apart.

Breathy, the nervous girl asked. "Was that alright?"

"That was great." And then, because she wasn't quite sure what to say after that, she added in a cracking pubescent voice. "Thank you."

Then she coughed, because the voice seemed so abnormal, so unsure and so alien to the commanding tone she had always known. "I'll see you in Glee?"

Half-way through her stride away, Rachel whirled around. "Absolutely, Quinn."

Absentmindedly, Quinn smiled, shoving her hands in her pockets coolly. Her eyes lingered, watching the brunette smirk, then walk away, float away to her car. Quinn's eyelids fluttered closed as she spun around, making her way to her own car. However, just as she jammed her keys into the ignition, she looked up through her windshield, halted by the image she saw before her - her two best friends, huddled near the entrance of the restaurant, congratulating each other and high-fiving...

_Well now, that was weird. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Wow. Didn't expect such a favorable response...actually, I didn't have any expectations. All you guys are great. Anyway, I'm posting this in honor of Glee being on tonight. Let's hope we get some more Brittana (and at the very least, more Faberry friendship scenes).

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Somehow - between the time it took to travel routinely from Mr. Shue's Spanish class to English Lit, Santana had kidnapped her, promptly pulling her into the bathroom and dragging her corpse along like a rag doll. Because the school's locked door policy had been disintegrated after that unfortunate incident that last year, when Sue Sylvester had locked all the bathrooms and it had been filed as psychological abuse, Santana bolted the bathroom stall for privacy.

Brittany was already in there (as dirty as that sounded), tapping her foot in anticipation.

"So…?" The Latina had started off, peering at the confused former cheerleader. When the question didn't register immediately, she snapped. "The date! What was it like _finally _tasting the rainbow, Q?"

To her shock, the blonde had laughed hard, throwing her friends a hard glance. "I went on _one_ date with Berry. It didn't mean anything."

For a moment, her friends grimaced at her which, if that hadn't shocked her enough, begun the sharing of some sort of look Quinn had seen on various occasions before, telepathically communicating. When they had seemingly reached a viable consensus they faced her.

"You're going on a second date." Brittany nodded frankly, stating the proposal as if it were the most completely reasonable, completely logical next step in this situation.

"Why? I mean I held up my end of the bargain it's only fair that -"

With a swiftly raised hand, Santana stopped her abruptly, squeezing Brittany's shoulder with free hand reassuringly. Her girlfriend returned a happy grin, thanking her quietly.

Quinn let an exasperated sigh; it sometimes made her jealous how they could communicate like that without even speaking. She would never admit it, but if she was perfectly honest, a rare occurrence nowadays, her connection with Finn was somehow…lacking compared to theirs.

"That's not fair!" An irritable Quinn argued. "That completely goes against what we agreed on yesterday."

"I said you have to be 'dating' Rachel Berry." The Latina smirked, a devilish gesture on her part.

Quinn opened her mouth to insist that she had, but Santana cut her off quickly.

"One date hardly qualifies."

"I let her kiss me, Santana!" Her hands quickly flew over her mouth, hearing the subtle noises of someone shifting outside the stall. "She kissed me with tongue."

The Latina waved her off with a manicured hand. "Irrelevant."

"It's completely relevant-"

Leaning in, Santana reasoned with her, coaxing her in that downy voice. "What is a third of the votes worth to you? What is _Prom Queen_ worth to you? Proving that you're not just a Lima loser, once and for all? Does one lousy date, where Berry cops a feel, even seem comparable?"

"Well, it wasn't lousy." The blonde grumbled inaudibly, trying to keep a neutral expression and failing so it seemed. For some reason, her friends were snickering that this revelation, basking again in their telepathic connection.

Feeling cheated, she frowned. Despite herself, she had to admit that Santana had a point though; winning over the title of Prom Queen with one Berry-esque date seemed almost too easy. The former head cheerleader drew a heavy exasperated breath.

"What do you want me to do?" The blonde relented.

With a wicked expression, the Latina smirked, crossing her arms in such a purposeful way that indicated she had mulled over this thought about this before.

"Okay," She began dutifully, comprehensively scaring Quinn into submission. "Here's the plan…"

Ready to begin and with such dedicated intent that it scared Quinn, the Latina flung the stall door open, taking a step outside. Halfway through their motions, they halted, suddenly noticing that one of their fellow Glee club members had stopped washing the slushy off her shirt and looked up at them with shock.

"Did you guys _all _just come out of the same stall?" said Tina, gaping.

Santana simpered as Quinn flushed the color from her cheeks.

* * *

><p>One thing about Santana Lopez, which Quinn should have been wary about from the moment she had met her, was that when she wanted something – really wanted something – she would let nothing stand in her way of getting it. <em>Absolutely nothing.<em>

She should have been wary of this when Santana had tried to (literally) pull the rug from under Artie throughout her jealous, he-doesn't-deserve-my-baby phases, or when she had sensitized Dave Karofsky with misled intentions, or when she had told Sam about her newest 'affair' in order to find a new beard.

But standing in the doorway of Rachel Berry's house, nervously swaying from side to side, she realized she hadn't been wary, not at all. At least this time her friends had allowed her to dress _herself_ before going outside, but they had called (just in case) to ascertain her wardrobe choice.

Finn had been conveniently asked out by Puck to play video games and, either not noticing or not caring, had been seemingly placid with having barely seen his girlfriend in the past two days. Once, she had dialed him to hear the sounds of grenades going off and various hollering of "Freaking Nazi zombies". She hadn't even bothered calling again after that.

Shuffling in her pockets were some wadded bills, the tickets for their date and an unopened condom, which embarrassingly enough Brittany had given her just before she headed out the door, insisting she didn't need it herself anymore. She was still unsure about what to do with such a thing, maintaining that its very occupancy on her person was pure blasphemy.

In fact, the entire uncertainty of the situation, standing outside of Rachel Berry's house (condom or not), frightened her. If she wasn't careful, she was sure Santana and Brittany would pop out of the bushes sometime, just for the heck of giving her a heart attack. Suspiciously, before puncturing the doorbell, she had checked the rosebushes outside._ Twice._

Head in the hedges, the door swung open and she teetered sheepishly back to the 'We're _Berry _Welcome to Have You' mat, greeted by a tall, African-American man she assumed was Rachel's father.

"Hello, sir." She stiffened, feeling her legs turn into lead. Her voice cracked again, sounding like a horny teenage boy. "I'm here for Rachel…"

He narrowed his eyes into slits that made Quinn even more nervous, crossing his arms. "You must be _Quinn Fabray_."

He pronounced her name slowly, grimacing at the increasingly nervous blonde at his doorstep. Her mouth went dry, silently recapping the horror stories Rachel _could_ have told her fathers, the days she had tortured the girl so harshly that she would have run home crying to her fathers. The weight of the world suddenly on her.

"What exactly are your intentions with my daughter?"

Quinn blinked thoroughly, feeling as though someone had just punched her in the stomach. What do you tell the father of the girl you were dating as part of some sick plan to win over more votes for Prom Queen, when he asks such a thing? Because that was all this was, right? It was a plan, not an actual date, so the anxiety she was feeling right now was because she was afraid that she might fail. Not because she actually cared…

"Dad, don't scare her like that!" The petite diva appeared like a beacon of light, scrambling down the staircase.

If her father wasn't standing there, six feet tall and heavily-built, looking like the kind of man that would keep a shotgun handy, she would have kissed her again. Of course, in the most non-romantic, totally _platonic _way possible.

Sheepishly shifting her weight between her feet, she watched as Rachel pecked the senior Berry on the cheek, confiding gently to him. "She's nervous. Don't be so tough on her."

The massive disposition of the man softened, though his mouth remained in a stern, distinguished straight line. "Have her home by ten, alright?" He offered his daughter a trusting smile, then turned his attention towards Quinn, the unlikely suitor, waving a finger at her. "And no funny business…"

"Funny business?" Baffled, Quinn's mouth unhinged.

Finally the innuendo registered and she grinned as a disturbed Rachel Berry pulled her away from the welcome mat, frowning at her father with disproval. Watching intensely as the flustered blonde opened the car door for his one and only daughter, Mr. Leroy Berry cracked a reluctant smile. How he remembered, had he been so flustered with Hiram on their dates?

_It was all so familiar._

* * *

><p>"How did you even get these seats, Quinn?" Her 'date' had crooned, perched on top of her chair like a bird, scanning the stage back and forth. "I've been looking for these tickets for months."<p>

Radiating, Quinn smiled at her. "Brittany's a part of the dance studio. I actually think she's dancing later on."

Her eyes poured over the brunette as she hastily fumbled over the program. Leaning over casually, she found herself intruding Rachel's personal space yet again, which made the girl blush.

"Can you even read that? It's so dark."

Her color escalating, Rachel retorted. "I happen to have amazing vision, Quinn. Even from this far, in the dark, I can see every part stage." She buried her face in the program in an attempt to hide her blush, muttering quietly to herself. "And your beautiful face."

Quinn briefly caught that, the addition of the word 'beautiful'. Why did it surprise her so much that Berry had called her beautiful more times in two fake dates than her boyfriend had in an entire year? Without even being prompted, nonetheless.

Hesitantly, and for reasons she could not explain to anyone else, instead would probably deny, she flung her arm around Rachel's shoulders protectively, pulling her in closer as the lights began to dim further. In response, the brunette dropped her head on Quinn's shoulder, inciting a shiver that coursed through her entire body.

This was nice, almost _too _nice. Tensely, she turned towards the small brunette.

"Rachel?" She queried.

The girl shushed her promptly, keeping her eyes on the brilliantly-lit strip of the stage as a line of leotard-cladded dancers entered. Quinn raised an eyebrow.

Their uniforms were the same color as skin, so they all looked like identical, peach blobs. Now that Quinn that about it they all looked they were supposed to be naked. Just as the risqué thought came to her, the stage filled with some ominous, multi-colored lights, beaming down on them, blending everything – their forms, their bodies, their colors – together into one.

Crossing her legs uncomfortably, Quinn studied the risqué arrangement.

_If the rest of the interpretive dances were like this, she might never be able to look Brittany straight in the eyes again. _

* * *

><p>After the less-than-appropriate arrangement of dance numbers, Quinn had pulled Rachel back stage, an act which the brunette had greatly misinterpreted, and therefore frowned at Quinn disappointedly, ready to swipe her away should things get…out of hand. However, when she was brought into the dancer's quarters, basking in the radiant light, she breathed out a sigh of relief.<p>

"Oh," She had exclaimed, "Thank God. I thought you were going to -"

Whirling around, Quinn looked at her expectantly and she shut her mouth, muttering something along the lines of 'never mind, really never mind'.

Brittany met up with them shortly, pulling Quinn into a bone-breaking-ly tight hug.

"Did you like it?" The taller blonde asked excitedly.

"Oh, yeah. You were great, B." said Quinn as she flicked her eyes to various mundane objects in the room – lamps and leotards and a strange swing – anything to avoid eye contact. Thankfully, Brittany didn't notice. "No words could possibly describe it."

"Thanks, Q. It's called contemporary dance," Brittany offered affectionately. "It's like your entire body is dancing - like doing the wave only way cooler."

Quinn grinned in the hug. She joked, though she was barely paying attention, eyes wandering to the short brunette standing next to her. "Where's Santana, B? You guys have been joined at the hip lately."

"Hey, missed me, lemon?" Behind her, the Latina materialized, greeting cordially enough for someone that could appear and disappear like a freaking stalker. "Done perving on my girlfriend?"

She whirled around, the nickname 'lemon' never truly did register with her but it was Santana and she knew better than to ask. "I'm not –"

Looking around protectively, she released a sigh; glad that Brittany had begun distracting her 'date' by talking to her animatedly about something she wasn't completely unsure of. Cringing, she caught key pieces of the conversation such as 'pancake in the ocean' and 'gay sharks' and decided it was better that she did not know.

Quinn scowled self-protectively. "Besides, I have my own…never mind."

Blushing, she pulled Santana aside so Brittany wouldn't see her bite her girlfriend's head off. "Hey, explain to me this: why is it that all we seem to have are double-dates?"

Santana laughed, cocking her head back. "What, you wanted some 'alone time'?"

Frowning importantly, Quinn shoved the Latina, effectively wiping the smirk off of Santana's lips.

* * *

><p>A few demonstration backstage dances and one very inappropriate suggestion made by Santana later, and she and Rachel had opted to leave the theater. Out the door, the Latina had winked at her, a gesture which made Quinn feel increasingly nervous and she frowned at the Latina importantly.<p>

They had pulled into Berry's street ten minutes before curfew, with the air conditioning kicking hard in the car, when Rachel turned towards her in the car, inquiring why they had ended up here so early.

"You aren't going to jump me now, are you?" The brunette shuffled her shoes nervously on the carpet, adding generously. "Not that I would mind…eventually I guess it would be inevitable…"

Quinn laughed, and suddenly noticing the way Rachel was shivering, automatically shed her own jacket and wrapped it around the small girl, who shivered on contact.

"I wouldn't rape you in front of your parents' house, that's just tasteless." Feeling Rachel swaying next to her, she added honestly. "Just wanted to make sure you'd be home early because I don't want your dads to hate me anymore than they already do."

"They don't hate you!" The other girl insisted, a notion Quinn could not wrap her brain around. And sensing her unease, which was evidently painted on her face as all her emotions were, Rachel reached for her porcelain hand in the car. "They don't. _Really_… I mean they don't exactly love you either –"

Quinn hadn't expected them to.

"But they don't hate you either. They like the fact that you're trying to be a different person – that you paid for diner and get nervous _all_ the time… They like that I'm going after someone like you."

"Someone like me?" Quinn perspired. She was well-aware that she was blushing hotly despite the chilly night air, and that, if any of her assertions were true, Rachel could easily see her with only the street lights as a means of illumination.

"Yes, _you_." Rachel was overly expressive with her facial features, smiling and warming up like the sun. Quinn wondered if it was because she was the daughter of a stage coach or because the early enrollment in drama classes she had often told her about. "You're perfect, okay? At least they think so, the way I must talk about you sometimes… But I think, someday…err if we're still dating by then…they'll see you as I see you, because they trust my judgment."

"Do you judge me?" She inquired.

"Not in the way you think." The brunette bit her lip, then rather adorably wrapped Quinn's jacket around her shoulders tighter. "I believe that you are a wonderful person, Quinn. Smart, beautiful, _genuine_."

Quinn sat in her seat guilty, kneading her shoes into the carpet of her Toyota. Accidently turning on the headlights with a brush of her elbows, she fumbled with the controls and Rachel giggled innocently.

Perhaps it was obvious, her embarrassment, her horror, her nervousness that clung to her face, but she didn't want Rachel to see her now, looking away hastily. The girl next to her was incorruptible though, and, sensing her unease, reached over the partition between them, cupping the blonde's face in her hands.

Then without warning, as their first had been, Rachel pecked her lightly on the lips, not lingering any longer. She was being tentative with the kiss. Which was probably a smart thing considering that they were parked outside of her house, where her two dads would probably see her making out with their daughter in a dark, isolated car as something to frown on. She found herself constantly looking out the window, expecting the Mr. Berry she'd met to come at them with a flashlight and a stun gun at the ready.

Though the kiss was brief, Rachel kept her face closer to hers than necessary, breathing hotly on her skin. Her eyes were still closed, feeling the rhythmic warmth of Rachel's inhalations against her face.

"You are so…" was the inaudible whisper echoing against her skin.

Eye lids flicked open when the warmth drew back, meeting the petite girl seated in her car. Rachel formed a smile at her. "I really hope we can do this again."

"Me too." Quinn replied automatically, and then recoiled, wondering why she had said something like that…

On cue, Quinn flicked the doors open, watching as the other girl undid her seat belt and slid out of the vehicle calmly.

"Goodnight, Quinn."

Her breath hitched, watching the street lights hit the girl outside.

"Goodnight, Rachel."

As Rachel shuffled across the cool grass, disappearing behind the menacing front door, Quinn slipped her phone out of her jean pockets, pressing speed dial.

"Hey, Santana?" She could hear the Latina on the other end turning over in her sheets angrily, Brittany's meek voice trailing behind. She shivered, realizing she'd called at a horrible time but she knowing Santana would have to ass anyway, she added. "The date's over, trust me I've done more than enough to earn Prom Queen."

Teeth clicked on the other side of the line. "You…you didn't call for something else?"

Quinn's eyebrows knit together confusion. "No, why?"

The sound of Santana face-palming through the line made her eyebrows knit further together.

* * *

><p>"Freaking pressed lemon," In her room, the Latina hung up her phone and fell back onto her bedspread exhausted. Behind her, Brittany shifted, looking up suddenly.<p>

"What's wrong, San?" She questioned, moving aside a pile of blankets.

"Quinn, B. She's what's wrong." The blonde draped her arms around her girlfriend from behind her comfortingly. "I swear when she comes out of the closet, the entire LGBT world will be throwing confetti. I'll make sure her and Berry end up together," She spoke fervidly, pounding a determined fist into her other hand.

Brittany soothed her Latina counterpart with a languid kiss on the shell of her ear.

"You're such a hopeful romantic, San."

Despite being usually… unwilling, to the say the least, the girl uncharacteristically sighed, covering her face with the ends of her sleeves. "I think it's 'hopeless', B."

"No," Her girlfriend replied reassuringly. "It's never_ hopeless, _San."

She persisted, pulling her girlfriend deeper into the hug, resting her chin on her shoulder. Santana shifted to get more comfortable, though at this point, it seemed to be a futile attempt, with their legs scattered so haphazardly around her sheets.

Brittany was right – they weren't hopeless. There was hope, if they knew Quinn as well as they thought they did, Santana knew there was hope in this relationship and satisfied with her reasoning, she returned her thoughts to the girl peppering light kisses on her neck, smiling with zeal.

_If Quinn couldn't embrace the rainbow right now, she would have to embrace enough of it for the both of them. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Author's Note: **Well, this is looooong overdue. Sorry guys, honestly. I'll try to be better about updating, especially with finals just around the corner. (For those of you curious as to why I've been incommunicado - I was sick, presumably infected by a girl in my French class...)

* * *

><p>Jerking in surprise, Quinn pulled the phone away from her ear as her boyfriend ranted on about something she was not particularly fond of. And no, it was not the latest video game on his console, or how he really wanted to beat Sam (just once) at fantasy football. No, this was about something much bigger than those things.<p>

"What do you mean you can't come over?" He blared through the line.

"Exactly that." She clicked her teeth together, and huffed. "Do you really need the gory details?"

He breathed, setting his controller aside. "Yeah, kind of."

She could tell he was antsy, which he probably had the right to, considering she had practically been incommunicado for days. It was surprising really to see him get so protective over her; he only seemed to do that with Rachel despite his affiliations with herself. Was it wrong to feel that pang of jealousy every time he stood up for her? They were 'friends' after all. And he certainly had more of a reason to be jealous, because if she was honest with herself (which she hadn't been very lately), she was indeed cheating on him.

"Santana and I sort of have this agreement…"

She can practically hear his eyebrow go up. "What sort of _agreement_?"

Obviously, with the teenage boy mind that he had, the word registered in the sexual nature. Though, it also helped that his one and only 'agreement' with the Latina, similar in the 'agreements' of his various male friends (minus Kurt, for obvious reasons) have centered around this very nature.

But apparently his girlfriend doesn't register innuendoes, perhaps due to an upbringing laced with the complete lack of sexual innuendoes, much less the ominous L word innuendoes. She answered him frankly. "We have sleepovers at her house all the time, Finn. Practically since we met."

Quinn sighed. If only he was little more like…no. She would not compare them. Finn was a great boyfriend, kind and sweet, occasionally dim and lacking emotional depth and….no. She would not think about his shortcomings, especially not the ones that Rachel more than possessed. Stupid brain.

"Fine," He sulked, and then took a deep deliberate sigh. "I'm sorry it's just…it's like we don't talk anymore – I miss you."

Blonde eyebrows furrowed in guilt.

"I love you." He continued.

"Thanks," She replied automatically, he almost whimpered for her to say something more. It snapped back at her face, the realization that is. "Oh, yeah – me too… Love you, too."

She tucked her phone in the pocket of her jacket, as she pulled into Santana's driveway with determination.

* * *

><p>Santana always left her door open on the weekend, which was something Quinn had always protested against. Who knew who was lurking out there? Murderers perhaps or burglars, or what if her parents were to return early from their weekend endeavors and walked in on Santana and Brittany. What always puzzled her about the arrangement, however, was that the two always seemed so…intimate. How could her parents not notice? Or maybe, (and this wasn't so far fetched if you actually met Mr. and Mrs. Lopez) her parents simply didn't care she was dating a girl… Quinn was envious. If her mother even found out about her 'fake' dating Rachel, she would homeless yet again.<p>

Lazily, Quinn dropped her bag off the foot of the staircase, abandoning her shoes as well, as she maneuvered in the Lopez den. It did not surprise her that her friends were already cuddled up on the recliner, with Brittany's face buried in the crook of Santana's neck. However, once Brittany's arm lowered…down there, she could not resist clearing her throat to seem like less of a voyeur.

"Hey, Q. Care to join us?" Brittany asked innocently as she had noticed Quinn leering at them for quite some time before she made her prescence evident.

"I'd rather not, B." The girl immediately protested. "Besides, it looks more like something that should really go on without me."

The awkward moment was intruded by the piercing sound of the doorbell. Wait, Quinn thought, looking around frantically. The three of them were already here. Who -? Apprehensively, she shot a look at Santana, who was already playing with her fingers and scanning the room with her eyes, feigning innocence.

Jumping in place, Brittany called out downstairs excitedly. "The door's open, Rachel!"

"Rachel?" Quinn mouthed lamely as Brittany passed her, jaw flapping to no avail.

Pulling her quickly into reality, the Latina slapped her on the arm, which was the Santana-esque form of friendly comfort.

"Would you believe it was another coincidence?" She asked the flustered girl, shrugging thoughtlessly. "Small world, you know?"

* * *

><p>"You're so cute together, Q." Brittany cooed at them, and Quinn waved her off before she said anything particularly embarrassing. "You're like lobsters."<p>

Oh, no. Too late. Her face ripened at what she assumed was yet another sexual innuendo. Though for the life of her, she couldn't understand how lobsters...Well, she had heard they were an aphrodisiac…Not that she had ever tried them with such intent.

"What was that about?" Quinn mouthed towards Santana, who was bearing that perpetual smirk of hers. The Latina shrugged innocently, though the glimmer of her eyes made Quinn increasingly wary.

Diffusing all sorts of tension, Rachel beamed, obviously aware of whatever 'lobsters' Brittany was talking about.

"What are we watching?" Rachel had asked, crossing her legs together on the floor next to Quinn. Had they gotten this close yet? To the point at which, sitting at this _very _close proximity was perfectly acceptable protocol? Well, they had kissed… Quinn shook her head, feeling dizzy.

"I motion the L word," The Latina coaxed at the remainder of the three girls, "All in favor?"

"What's the L word?" Quinn asked, before being promptly shushed by Brittany, of all people. But because she was Brittany, and she couldn't keep quiet herself for too long either, she added a hushed 'Lebanese'.

"Anything with Mia Kirshner is fine by me," Rachel piped in with a characteristic zeal. "She's definitely attractive."

Quinn shot her an apprehensive look. Definitely not of the jealous persuasion, she reasoned, because what did she have to be jealous about? Jealous would suggest that she had actual feeling involved in this arrangement, which she certainly did not. Did she?

Brown eyes glittered at her through the dim light, relenting a little. "Though not nearly as attractive as Quinn."

Said blonde blushed, especially when Rachel snaked a hand around her waist protectively. Brittany bit her lip to keep from saying something about how Quinn was Rachel's lobster again, instead settling on making coos at the couple deliberately.

"Not nearly as attractive my ass," Santana joked from her position on the couch, "Kirsher's a supermodel." Brittany punched her girlfriend thoroughly in the arm. "Her character's kind of a joke though."

Rachel shook her head indignantly. "Why, may I ask?"

The Latina perched her legs, eyeing the girl, whose fingers were entwined with Rachel's.

"She wavers too much, especially in the first season. She knows that she's playing for the other team but she still leads her finance on, because she wants to believe that she's straight… In the end, she doesn't even get the girl."

Rachel folded her hands in her lap thoughtfully. "Well, in the beginning it was particularly reasonable though… She was in the closet, and afraid… Had she come to terms with her sexuality sooner, she might've actually been a wonderful example of someone coming out of the 'armored closet', so to speak. And she would have definitely gotten Marina."

Blinking in surprise, Quinn shifted her weight affectionately, against the short brunette. Her eyebrows knit together for what seemed to be the millionth time this week. There was some hidden meaning here, if only she could figure it out…

* * *

><p>They had watched the first episode of the series, one entire episode, before Rachel had seen it fit to snuggle into her shoulder and pull her in closer as they lay on the carpeted floor. It was an odd sort of silence that hovered above them, a comfortable silence, as if she no longer cared about where her hands went, or how close she held Rachel because, all at once it didn't matter. She was there. This was comfortable.<p>

Her phone had been turned off long ago after the first time Finn had called her again asking about her 'arrangement' with Santana and what sounded like the beginning of another mailman episode. Though she hadn't actually discussed their 'agreement' on the status of her endorsement of her Prom campaign, she surprisingly didn't care as much. Maybe even after all this, Rachel would be satisfied with being just friends, friends of course, who cuddled. Because girls did that all time without any romantic feelings involved. Take Santana and Brittany for example…Okay, maybe that was a bad example. And she really couldn't picture Mercedes and Tina getting comfortable on a couch. But she was certain that this was _completely _naturally for two girls to do platonically.

Her arms wrapped around Rachel's form, tugging her in unfeasibly closer and she breathed in her perfume, the scent of lilac soap stirring her emotions. Rachel palmed her face suddenly, grazing the patch of skin with the pads of her fingers. And just as she was about to kiss her, Quinn could tell by the way her eyes were gleaming down at her that Rachel wanted her to, the lights flicked on fast.

She put some distance between them as Santana loomed above her, barking. "Hey, Quinn, can we discuss that _thing_ about…Prom?"

And she jerked up, releasing Rachel's slender hand with a sigh. As they left the room, Santana winked at the brunette pooled on the floor to assure her absolutely nothing was amiss.

Once again, Santana pulled Quinn into the bathroom down the hall and proceeded to latch the door shut with precision. Menacingly, she turned to face her, but instead of the usual scowl, she beamed.

Arms crossed, she stated. She could barely contain her enthusiasm. "You're so gay,"

"I'm not gay." Quinn barked back defensively.

"Right, you're not gay." The Latina snapped back, raising a finger helpfully. "You're a lesbian. Terminology, Q. Next up – dental dams."

Quinn's face contorted distastefully at the image and she frowned. "I'm dating Finn. I'm definitely not gay, definitely not for Rachel _Berry_."

The blonde rippled as the Latina formed her signature scowl, making fists of her hands. She had to take a step back, preemptively.

"Then tell me about the girl in that room," She stabbed a finger in the expected direction. "Who's staring at you like she's _freaking _in love with you!" Santana shouted, eerily through the sudden silence. "Tell me, that that's not real. That you don't feel it! Because we _all _feel it!"

This was the first time. The first time she had ever seen Santana so worked up about something since that (unfortunate) incident where Artie had called Brittany stupid. Quinn certainly did not expect her outburst, and crossed her arms protectively.

"I'm not, she's not…." Quinn's voice trailed on, searching for something coherent. "It was all for a wager-"

"I'm going to stop you there Quinn, because I know you might say something you might regret." The Latina slumped against the wall with grief, almost as if she had finally given up on the situation. "You're a lesbian. The giant L word."

Sensing her capitulation, Quinn let out an explosive sigh, whispering quietly as slid beside her, against the wall. "And if I said you were right…I assume you wouldn't be surprise?"

A dark eyebrow rose, and she nodded hastily. But before Santana could jump up and down, and call Brittany to welcome the newest member to their 'big, gay family' (or as she put it - the rainbow crusaders), the patter of tiny shoes against the staircase followed by the heavy slam of a door interrupted their seclusion.

* * *

><p>"Wait, Rachel!" Brittany's voice came after, following the sound of those gentle shoes. "It's not her fault. She's totally gay! She's just an idiot sometimes!"<p>

Poking her head from the bathroom, Quinn frowned as Brittany tried heedlessly to wave Rachel down. But the brunette shook her head, clutching her duffle bag closely to her chest.

"Brittany, while I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing," Rachel uncharacteristically faltered at this, "It's become increasingly clear that I'm not welcome here." The words she spat out fueled the power of more words, spurring to life with each rampant breath. "Unlike your friend, I was…_am_ still completely a lesbian. And I am…._was_ completely in lo-"

Rachel paused, unable to finish the thought with the blonde looking at her with such innocent, watery eyes. Momentarily, she leaned into Brittany, steadying the palm of her hand against the former cheerleader's shoulder and sighing. "Listen, Brittany. It's not your fault. I know I want things way too much for my own good…Quinn being one of those things. But I actually thought that for once, just once, I actually had her. _All of her._" She choked. "And having the rug ripped from under you like that…it's too much."

"It's silly, really…how did I expect to land the most beautiful girl in high school by being _me_?" She laughed, but the sound was broken. Fishing her duffle bag off the floor, Rachel was met again with Brittany's troubled eyes. "Just tell Quinn I understand."

* * *

><p>And after she left, with the heavy slam of the front door trailing closely behind, Quinn felt herself unable to move. Her mouth was dry; as it had been when she first discovered the pregnancy stick to be red. The stick that told her she would be just another teenage statistic. Vaguely, she felt Santana snake her way around her shoulder and mutter something along the lines of:<p>

"I think she heard us."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Rachel!"

Quinn flicked her wrist against the intrusive partition between them, the front door of the Berry household. The night air clung to her sides, as she wavered on the barely illuminated porch, waiting.

After Rachel had left so abruptly, it hadn't taken her but a moment to recollect her thoughts and shove past the front door, going after Rachel into the darkness. Without thinking, she had left her keys Santana's house, and had necessarily run the entirety of five blocks until the lights from Rachel's car faded. From there, she followed the path she had knew, the path she had memorized on their second date to the modern –style Victorian house that was Rachel Berry's home.

By the time the house had materialized, she had absorbed it all – the almost sleepover, the sudden realization that she was probably (definitely) a lesbian, the girl whose heart she had broken and the fact that she had so witlessly gone after said girl on foot. All these things amounted to only one three-word statement that left her lips as the door in front of her creaked open, revealing a very flushed Rachel Berry in a pink bathroom.

"I'm an idiot." She said and the door slammed shut again, the gust of the action knocking her slightly. Frantically regaining her composure, she craned her neck again into the bushes, as she had done on their second date and trained her eyes on the drain pipe which snaked into a nearby window. That had to be Rachel's room - who else would decorate their sill with a single golden star sticker?

Diligently, she wrapped her fingers against the drainpipe, yelping only a little when the cold metal pierced her skin. She shook her head. She wouldn't let a little thing like bloodied hands get in the way of this – whatever this was. With intent, she lurched forward and faced the metal pipe, beginning her climb.

* * *

><p>"Quinn!" Rachel shrieked, spotting the whisk of blonde hair crawling out of her window and quickly wrapping the fuzzy bathrobe even tighter. She pointed an accusatory finger at the blonde girl. "What are you doing here? This is my <em>room<em>."

"I know," Quinn stammered, catching her breath. "It's completely inappropriate and intrusive…but I want to at least explain what happened…"

Rachel's eyes pooled at the sound of her voice. "You know, I've taken a lot of what you've done to me for years and accepted that. Name-calling and slushies and even the pornographic murals in the bathrooms – I took all of that because of _you_. Because I knew that there was something more to you. But this…this…" She was broken, the sound of her breaking made Quinn ache.

Denial, looking at someone and believing you could never have them and hating yourself because of that – that did not compare. Knowing that you had broken the one person who made you whole – _that _was the most torrid feeling in the world. It swallowed her, thrashed inside her chest, and threw her completely out of her body until she felt apart from the person she had been up to this point.

"I'm sorry, Rachel. For everything." Quinn took a profound breath, staring ashamedly at the patterns in the carpet. "I can't justify what I did – all of the things I did, I know I would never be able to."

She lifted her shoes, making her motions towards the broken girl to let her support herself against the sturdiness of her arms.

"But I want to try; I want to try to make you feel how I feel every time I see you. I want that feeling to replace the way I've hurt you. Because I never thought it so until now, but I think I… I think love you." Quinn swallowed. "Rachel, I think I'm in love with you."

With two fingers, she lifted Rachel's head from her shoulder, letting the tears slide off her cheeks, glistening like rain. Delicately, Rachel met her eyes, nodding slightly.

"How do I know you're not just faking this again?" Rachel breath was caught her throat.

Reaching for Rachel's hand, Quinn held it against her chest without protestation. Thoughtlessly, Rachel felt the thundering beats against the soft flesh of her hand. "Because you can't fake this, Rachel."

"Okay." The absent word flew from her mouth, and she nodded. "I think I believe you."

A small smile crested on her face, and Quinn felt the deepest urge to lean in and hug her, hold her, because her body craved her to. But Rachel pushed her aside with her delicate hands.

"We can't be doing this though," She said, waggling her finger at Quinn as the tears on her face dried. "You're still dating Finn, so _this_ would be considered cheating. And besides," Rachel said, making her way to her dresser, where she lay her Star of David necklace. Quinn crept onto her bed, absently crossing her legs. "I forgive you but I'm not sure if I'm completely ready to trust you again."

"I understand," Quinn breathed. "And I didn't expect you to, but I want you to know I'll do anything to gain back your trust. Because, I never want to hurt you like that again, Rach."

Rachel softened as she stared at the necklace placed meticulously on the dresser, then at the good Catholic girl seated on her bedspread.

"I know," She said, softly smiling.

Quinn smiled back at her, her chest wreathing with a mixture of guilt and anguish and love and compassion. Nightfall was fading fast, and soon the neighborhood watch would be sent out to find her on the behalf of Santana and Brittany, who had been so quick to name her their 'lesbian love child' so it were. And besides, she knew it better than to overstay her welcome.

She slipped off the bedspread, swinging her legs off the edge of the cot. Her shoes met the floor like a sudden crash into reality, like all this time she had been numb to the _real _world. Sparing a glance at the brunette, she pushed up the window and shot her neck into the darkness. Dusk called for her.

Crawling out the gap, she lifted her head to meet the sky, which was filled with a soft blackness. Rachel quickly went after her, almost tumbling to watch the wisp of blonde hair disappear into the darkness with the rest of her form. A moment elapsed before the meager lampposts lit her appearance on the walk below.

From the street, the blonde peered up at the brunette, who was leaning over her sill, basking in the light of her bedroom. Quinn grinned, spreading her arms out like wings as if the gust could take her away. She never wanted this to end.

"I love you, Rachel Berry!" The blonde shouted from the spotlight of her window in the darkness below. Beaming, she stayed a little while longer, lingering not for any particular reason… than to watch the moonlight weave patterns on her face.

This was how love was supposed to be, she thought. She could stay here forever, just watching Rachel like this, with her palm pressed against the cheek of her face. When the phone in her pocket buzzed for the third time, burning brightly in the cool night air, she mustered the willpower to turn away, but not without blowing the girl who sat at the balcony a farewell kiss. It was cheesy, she knew that - but she had to. The atmosphere simply called for it.

Sighing thoughtfully, Rachel ran her fingers through her hair, watching as her paramour disappeared into the night. And quietly, so Quinn couldn't hear, she muttered under breath. "I love you too, Quinn Fabray." She tucked herself away, flicking off the lights. "I love you too."

* * *

><p>"We need to talk." Quinn had said, meeting Finn in the hallways before class had started. She had simply demanded that he meet her there, only to greet him with the single most cliché phrase in all of teen-dom. The words that virtually everyone had said before subsequently breaking up with someone.<p>

Yet at the words, the boy bobbed amicably, unaware of what they meant, what they truly meant. What Quinn meant, and what she deadest on setting herself straight about. She took a lingering breath, pulling him aside on the stairwell where he crossed his legs, peering at her with such confusion as the frown of her eyebrows became more apparent.

"I don't want to lie anymore," And before he could ask about what, she continued. "About us, about you, about me."

She drew a steady breath, and repositioned herself in a most uncomfortable fashion. She never was good at breaking up."You were my first boyfriend, you know that?"

"Yeah," Finn nodded, scuffing his shoes against the floor. "Your dad told me that when I picked you up for our first date. Told me to be real careful about you too. He said 'No boy was good enough for his daughter'."

Quinn laughed, a little harder than she had expected, and the laughter made her feel light despite the heaviness that seemingly lay on her. He had no idea how ironically funny that was.

In silence, she pursed her lips together, looking towards the skylight with a sense of imprisonment. How was she supposed to begin this? Obviously, she couldn't just motion the thought forward, exclaiming 'I'm a lesbian' to heavens (despite Santana's protest that that was indeed, _exactly _what she should do).

And Finn was undeniably a good guy when it came down to it. Yes, he had many shortcomings, but when he thought he was the father of her child, he searched for a way to make ends meet, gave her a place to stay and tried to be the best father he could. In theory, they would have been good for each other – the star quarterback and the head cheerleader. But that wasn't what she wanted; she didn't want a theory. She wanted _Rachel_.

"So, when are you going to break up with me?" The boy called from the bottom of the stairs, and she whirled at him. Gawking, her eyes widened to a varying degree and he smirked, kicking his shoes together.

"That's what you were going to say, right?"

She nodded at a lack for words, and he continued, shrugging. "I'm not that oblivious, you know. When your girlfriend's been distant for weeks, she probably isn't your girlfriend anymore."

Laughing he met her shocked expression, reaching for his book bag. "It's alright, you know… I think we both knew it wouldn't really work out between us. We want different things."

"When did you get so mature?" She raised an eyebrow, almost as amused as well.

He dangled his hand in front of her and helped her climb off the staircase. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he made his motions down the halls. "I guess when I saw you with her at Breadstix."

She froze.

* * *

><p>"You're telling me that you knew that entire time and you're only letting me know now?" Quinn socked him, effectively wiping that smirk off of Finn's face.<p>

"Of course," he reassured her, rubbing the pain from his shoulder. "Not that it made it any easier to try and get over it…Sam was there though, so I think he stopped me from going completely ballistic."

She clutched the straps to her backpack tighter, feeling the need to apologize again. She'd been doing things that required one so frequently lately… "Finn -"

"You don't need to apologize." He cut her off, raising a hand. "Really."

The enormous boy rolled his shoulders, tilting his head to one side. "I mean I was upset at first, but I don't know… you guys looked so happy together. Something I haven't seen in you for a while."

Quinn let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Had they been so disconnected for so long? She hadn't noticed. Everything had just seemed so routine lately, she had forgotten what it felt like to truly be in love…that is, until she started dating Rachel. Just now, she had to admit, that the brunette was the only reason she looked forward to school, to Glee, to Friday nights. She made even the trivial aspects of life worthwhile.

"So how is the happy couple, anyway?" Finn queried, pulling her away from her thoughts.

Sheepishly, she staked her shoes in the floor. "Better now...though I believe I still need to make up for something…"

Failing to elaborate, she expected raised eyebrows, speculative glances but the carefree boy offered her no such thing. Instead, he kept to himself kindly, as if he had heard it all before.

"Makes sense." He bobbed once more, rhythmically and Quinn shoved him for his thoughtlessness. By the end of the day, his shoulders would be completely incapable of moving and Sam would once again defeat his football status. "What? You're like the Queen of broken hearts."

Quinn rolled her eyes at him, restraining from punching him yet again though he instinctively tried to protect his shoulders with his arms. She smiled, knowing that once and for all, everything was as it should be - no longer a liar or cheater or a closet case. Life was good.

She pulled her jacket tightly around her as she felt the AC finally kicking in, harsh and cold. She couldn't stand the wintry atmosphere anymore; she was no longer the Ice Queen.

"This is one I'm not planning to break." She said, heading down the halls to where she saw the flash of brown hair on a small and short form. Finn gave her his patented goofy smile, before rubbing his hands together to keep warm. He saw his ex girlfriend come up from behind his even more previous ex girlfriend and try to give her a hug, a fiasco which promptly ended with his latest ex girlfriend being punched in the stomach as a means of self-defense.

_Yes_, he thought, watching the blonde frantically try to catch her breath. She still had a long way to go in order to redeem herself. His glance flicked between the blonde, who was recently bruised and the brunette, who was apologizing abundantly. Well, here begins the path to courting Rachel Berry – he wondered if she needed any help…

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Well, here we go. Much better than last time, I hope? We can't keep these two away for long, they're like magnetic poles that yearn to be together... Also, the end was written kind of open here, so I might either leave it here, continue on this story or just write a sequel with a name more relevant...


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"There's something beautiful about a woman's scorn," Puck said, eyes focused through his binoculars from the driver's seat of his car. He had just adjusted his attention to the small mezuzah posted near the front of the Berry residence when Finn stabbed him briskly with the sharp of his elbow. "Ow, what was that for?"

"Don't get distracted," The taller football player grunted, taking out his own pair of binoculars. A pair his father had given him when he was just a boy scout. A pair he would cherish forev…

"Shoot." Finn said, having brought the lens to his eyes only to find dismay. "The lenses are broken…Give me yours."

"No way," His companion replied, scanning the property for any other Jewish ornaments. Naturally, he was impressed.

Who wasn't impressed, however, was Finn Hudson, who would be forced to squint into the darkness for the duration of their stakeout. It was _his_ idea after all, to keep surveillance on the Fabray-Berry date after Quinn had so vehemently refused his help when he had offered it. Perhaps, she was right, maybe she was doing perfectly fine on her own…but they both knew Quinn to be so damn hotheaded when it came to accepting help. They had to be certain she just wasn't being too proud…

"Hey, there she goes!" Puck said, suddenly holding the binoculars tightly. And sure enough, the blonde ex cheerleader appeared from the darkness, clicking the remote control on her keys. She sauntered across the sidewalk and began her stride for the Berry residence.

Finn reached for the sandwiches in the picnic basket he had brought for their stakeout, and Puck arched a wary eyebrow.

"What?" He asked, taking a bite. "The basket is necessary."

* * *

><p>Heels clacked on the sidewalk as Quinn drew a narrow breath, shoving her hands occasionally into her jacket pockets. Was it too reserved to answer the door with her hands like this or should she lean against the post casually? Maybe, that was too casual, she decided…Ugh. Why was this so nerve-racking, anyhow? She'd gone on numerous dates with Rachel before, definitely in more stereotypical 'romantic' settings, but why was it suddenly so worrying to even knock on the front door.<p>

She took a deep breath – she would need it, and strode up to the menacing entrance, knocking firmly against it. She hoped didn't look too frustrated with herself when Rachel answered… The door between them gave way suddenly, revealing Rachel in a comfortable pair of jeans and T-shirt. Casual, right. They had decided their second _real_ first date would be casual.

Settling herself a little, Quinn relaxed, reverting from her tense, straight posture. Perhaps, she would not to make a fool of herself after all.

"Hello there Quinn," Rachel started affably, letting the door slam shut behind her as she drew outside as well. She loved the way her name sounded on her lips. No hint of hatred, or fear, or misery – just warmth. Her voice was music even when she wasn't singing.

"Hey, Rachel." Quinn said, digging her hands only a little nervously into her jacket pockets. She had taken a handful of mints before this moment to secure that her breath smell perfectly fresh at such close proximities. They always seemed drawn together, even if they weren't about to do anything more than talk.

Rachel caught her lingering gaze, smiling softly in return at those hazel eyes. "What is it?"

Quinn opened her mouth, stumbling over the invisible words. Closing it shut, she grinned ridiculously at herself, and murmured a quiet. "Oh, nothing... You're just breathtaking, that's all."

"Thanks, as are you." Rachel said with arms moving gracefully as she held the door open for Quinn. "Care to come inside? I think my fathers are watching us with a telescope somewhere…"

"Well, I'm sure they're just worried…" Quinn pursed her lips, knowing well that the Mr. Berry's were particularly protective of their only daughter. "A telescope doesn't sound too bad anyways."

"Oh yes, well…" Rachel said, taking off her sandals by the door. "There's a rifle mounted onto the telescope…"

* * *

><p>Groaning, Puck set down his lenses callously and turned toward his companion. "Are they just going to play scrabble <em>all<em> night?"

Finn took a bite into his sandwich, pondering blankly Puck's observation. It wasn't an _un_usual Friday night for Rachel, though he had to admit that she never played it with him. Too many letters, not enough words came to mind.

"So, what? Rachel likes scrabble -"

"Quinn doesn't." Puck replied, wishing he had brought a six-pack to liven their stake out. Quinn's idea of romance seemed increasingly dull.

Finn shook his head. "She wants to impress her, I think. Do what Rachel wants to do instead of what she does."

"Huh," Puck set down his binoculars momentarily, letting them dangle from the string on his neck. Maybe, she wasn't such a dud at romance after all. As Rachel set up the board for a new game however, Puck automatically let out a groan. It was going to be a _loooong _night…

* * *

><p>"So, Quinn…" The shorter Mr. Berry said, pushing his glasses up to his nose as he glanced at his letters with only a small interest in them. "Don't you have something more 'exciting' to be doing on a Friday night – rather than interrupting <em>Family Game Night<em>?"

The comment earned him a prompt blow to the side, courtesy of the other Mr. Berry's, Mr. _Leroy _Berry's elbow. He had grown a quiet fondness for Quinn since her second date with Rachel at the theatre, and he supposed he could understand her reluctance to admit her feelings. Rachel's other father, Elijah, had been having a much more difficult time with the situation. In his eyes, this was still the girl who had hurt his daughter so terribly only a week ago.

"One more comment from you and you're sleeping on the couch tonight," Leroy whispered under breath, and the other man formed a line with his mouth, grimacing only slightly.

Paying no attention to her fathers, Rachel set her letters down on the board, diligently tapping her fingers on her lips.

"Chronaxy." She said, humbly sitting back.

"Is that a word?" Leroy asked, grinning as his daughter fumed at him slightly. She was hardly ever wrong when it came to the existence of certain words but he found it amusing to tease her about being wrong.

Quinn brushed Rachel's arm with her hand slightly, calming the brunette down. "It means 'the shortest duration of an electrical stimulus needed to excite nerve or muscle tissue', Sir."

Elijah Berry raised his eyebrow in intrigue. Huh. Perhaps, Quinn had some potential after all. He _did_ enjoy her company much better than any of Rachel's ex boyfriends...

* * *

><p>Finn propped himself up the palm of his hand, tiredly gazing into the darkness. "Anything new yet?"<p>

"Rachel used her letters to spell '_chronaxy'_." He whirled around. "Is that a word?"

Finn shrugged, so Puck sighed, reaching for the cell phone in his pocket. He let the light blink allowing him only few moments to glimpse the current time…Two hours of scrabble! He'd had more entertaining visits to his grandmother's (now that was a woman who could party).

A sudden whistling made them both jump and Finn looked out into the blackness through his window, grimacing when he saw the familiar moped parked a little further in front of them. The cyclist rendered off his helmet revealing a nest of prickling blonde hairs.

_Oh shit!_ Finn thought, looking around nervously. Sam _did _do his pizza route around this neighbourhood. Stupid brain, must spend more time paying attention…He would've face palmed but the golden boy was already drawing near. Maybe they could both duck and…

"Oh, hey Finn!"

_Oh shit. _

Still clutching his helmet against his jacket, the blonde football player drew near the driver's window, only slightly raising his eyebrow as he made out Puck's figure in the passenger seat. He was a loss at words, however, as he began to notice the peculiarity of the situation at hand.

It was worthwhile to note that the sandwiches Finn had brought in the dainty little picnic basket had been _very_ visibly set between them. It was also worthwhile to note, that _this _was Puck's truck and therefore a very great expanse of blanket had been laid out in the back. All of this accounted for a very nervous Finn Hudson, as he stammered to formulate a plausible explanation.

"What? Can't two dudes just hang out in one dude's car on a dark, secluded street alone without it being weird?" Finn defended fervidly, trying to make his point across to no avail.

Wide-eyed, the blonde football player gawked, keeping a sturdy hand on the pizza box he was delivering. He regained his composure quickly though, brushing the loose strands of blonde hair aside casually.

"Well, I don't judge," Sam said with a reassuring smile that was all too discomfiting to the boys in the truck, who jolted suddenly. And with that, he nodded, tipping his cap to them cordially and returned to his route without a hitch. As he left with distinct footsteps, Puck turned his attention to Finn.

"Why!" He said, giving a few repeated, quick jabs, though Finn didn't mind much – Quinn had been doing the same thing since they had started their newfound friendship. "Do you always make things worse?"

"I didn't make it wor…Wait, look!" Finn pointed spectacularly at the couple as they took a step outside, lingering on the porch. Scrabble night was (finally!) over.

* * *

><p>"This was a very nice evening, Quinn." Rachel said cordially, shivering only slightly at the cold wind. It was brief, but Quinn caught it and responsively slipped her jacket on the other girl. It was a little large, Quinn decided as her hands barely grazed the patch of skin made available by Rachel's halter top. Her fingertips only barely peeked from the length of the sleeves.<p>

"Yes, well… I liked it," Quinn answered, resisting the urge to give Rachel the prescribed goodnight kiss as described by any dating manual. She knew that such a touch would be too hasty. She still had to prove herself, which was why she had opted to win over Rachel's friendship instead of wooing her seriously. She knew Rachel would appreciate it, because, though she insisted she was "perfectly satisfied" and "perfectly independent", she knew that she was still hurting a little from the stunt she had pulled. Needless to say, she was willing to slow things down if it meant one day having a chance with Rachel again.

Nodding gingerly, Rachel took a seat on the bench situated on the porch and lifted her head past the boys who were ducking in their truck and into the night sky, a brilliant expanse of darkness that had seemingly engulfed them both. She tucked her hands underneath her knees, swinging them back and forth like a young girl.

She opened her mouth at Quinn, who had not yet followed her lead and stood, not particularly stiffly, facing her. "The evening… It's really beautiful isn't it?"

"Yeah," Quinn said, unable to tear her gaze away from the brunette seated on the porch bench, who was pretending not to notice the blonde's intense stare by focusing solely on the moon and the stars and the sky. "It is."

Rachel nodded, resisting looking into those intoxicating hazel eyes but the craving broke her within a matter of minutes and she braved a glance into those eyes, knowing damn well that they would one day be the death of her. The effects Quinn had on her were astounding.

"Milady?" Politely, Quinn coughed into her closed hand and Rachel stood abruptly, not hesitating to follow her lead. "May it be in our best interest if I take leave? Your fathers have been watching us through the blinds rather closely since we ventured outside their peripheral."

"Oh, parting is such sweet sorrow indeed," Rachel chirped. Quinn had to admit that the acting classes her fathers had enrolled her in had paid off – the accent was brilliant.

The blonde took her slender hand, holding the gentle palm upwards toward the feeble light. She finished off, watching as the light wove patterns into the light contour lines in Rachel's hand, "That I shall say good night till it be morrow."

She smiled, glancing aside sheepishly at the men hidden behind the blinds, watching the unlikely suitor with intent. Releasing Rachel's hand, she bowed flawlessly and waited until the lady had returned to her residence before taking a genial step off her porch and into the darkness…

* * *

><p>Puck groaned, falling back from the edge of his seat and hanging his binoculars dejectedly off his neck.<p>

"What? What happened?" Finn sputtered, pulling his attention temporarily off the very noisy car in front of them. Puck sighed, turning towards the other boy with a disappointed frown settling on his face.

"Nothing! That's what." He mustered himself off from his slouching position, pushing off the back of his seat with the palm of his hand. Finn raised an eyebrow, confused. "Absolutely nothing…They shook hands or something, man… _No girl on girl action or_ _anything_…" He muttered that last part lowly, so Finn dismissed it.

"Maybe, it seemed less engaging because we couldn't actually hear _anything_." Finn suggested optimistically with the hope being that Quinn was doing perfectly fine on her own, but Puck shook his head no.

"I've never been on a date that _didn't_ lead to at least first base," The leathery boy said, sighing.

"Except with Lauren," Finn scoffed under breath, but Puck was too lost in his own thoughts to chastise him thoroughly. He was pursing his lips, indicating he was mentally confuddled. "Maybe we should interfere a little then…help her along the way?"

Suddenly, Puck brought his hard fist to an open palm and Finn shuddered. "You see, that's why we're friends, Finn! I swear – we have _one_ mind!"

Finn grinned, happy with himself. _Well, prepare yourself Rachel Berry_, he thought. _You're about to be wooed by one Quinn Fabray!_

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Are you as afraid of what they'll do as I am? Might send in some interference by Brittana as well next chapter... As always, feedback is appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 **

Monday morning found Rachel twiddling with her pencil, tapping the instrument incessantly on her desk as she waited the end of this monotonous lecture and another class period closer to Glee (Ahem –Quinn). The weekend has sailed by lackadaisically, baring no ominous sign whatsoever. On Friday, they had shared a perfectly homely second 'first date' and her fathers had actually begun to ease up on her plausible new suitor. On Saturday, her fathers had expressed genuine concern as they watched their only daughter parade on the house, singing loudly 'Melt With You'.

"You will be doing _no_ such thing with no _one_!" Hiram Berry had asserted, folding his arms crossly as his husband's mouth quirked into a smile. Behind him, Leroy Berry was already undermining his authority with an onset of quick hand gestures. Rachel had rolled her eyes at him and continued with a more suitable selection of 'For Good'.

Quinn had called her on Sunday and they spent their time talking until the early morning, exchanging the product of each other's days with each unwilling to be the first to hang up. By the time Monday has rolled on, she was on an all time high.

So much for casual, Rachel thought. It was frustrating how much she wanted to touch Quinn again since they had agreed to give their relationship another go, since the moment the former Cheerio had turned up on her doorstep wearing the same jacket she had worn on their second date to the theatre. But fiddling with her pencil between index and middle fingers in first period, Rachel thought it best not to tell Quinn it was alright to move a little faster than the speed of a turtle…yet. Soon, once things had settled down a little and the prospect of rekindling their romance would not cause her daddy a heart attack...

First period, and Quinn had already sauntered by, blowing her a kiss through the open door which she felt obligated to catch with her hand, flickering eyes in response. The schoolgirl brought her pencil to her lips.

"Have you ever noticed how beautiful Quinn looks with her hair down?" She asked the Latina sitting next to her, apparently focused on – well, whatever they were studying. _Functional groups_, was it?

Beside her, Santana gagged, giving Rachel a firm thumbs-down as she looked up from the notes she had already taken. "I think I just threw up in my mouth." Santana regained her composure though, flattening her skirt with her hands.

Leaning over onto the palm of her hand, blatantly ignoring the lesson, Rachel's eyes fluttered shut. "She's so wholesome. I find the quality of it very attractive."

"Okay – if you keep going on like this about the girl I equate to on terms of intimacy as my biological sister, I might just throw up on _you_." Santana looked at the girl beside her, eyes scouring at the intense gaze Berry was giving…to the wall. _Obviously, visualizing pining Quinn against that wall and…oh, gross. Really didn't need that picture._ Grudgingly, Santana directed her attention away from her finely penned notes on the lecture. "You're really into her, aren't you?"

Rachel nodded, only half aware that she was, and even less aware of the growing smirk on Santana's face as she returned diligently to the lecture.

* * *

><p>"Okay, here's the plan…" Puck started simultaneously on the opposite side of the classroom, blatantly ignoring the first period lecture. "Operation: Get Quinn Fabray into Rachel Berry's Pants -"<p>

"That's really gross, man." Finn scrunched his nose at the prospect of his two ex girlfriends 'getting it on', so to speak, which Puck was basking in willingly. "And totally inaccurate - I mean, Rachel wears skirts half the time."

Slightly put off, Puck let out a sigh. "The name doesn't matter. All that does matter is the _plan_…"

"And what would that be?" asked Finn helpfully.

Waggling his eyebrows in some bad boy debonair he had fashioned, Puck explained further. "Dress to impress, man. Girls love the leather. Remember the way Rachel was ogling Quinn during their "Start Me Up/ Livin' On a Prayer" number?"

Finn blinked thoroughly. "Oh, that makes sense. But how are we supposed to just convince Quinn to put on a completely leather outfit in the middle of summer?"

"We don't necessarily have to 'convince' her to wear it." Puck replied a matter of frankly. "Plan is simple – break into the girls locker room, switch Quinn's clothes with this costume courtesy of the drama club," Grinning from ear to ear, the self-proclaimed bad boy held up the rugged black fabric he had stolen earlier this morning. "And get out before anyone suspects a thing."

Nodding along, Finn smiled dopily in understanding. "Rachel won't be able to keep her hands off Quinn."

Dirty thoughts immediately flooded Puck's mind. "Or keep anything _else_ off for that matter."

* * *

><p>Standing outside the girl's locker room with the black leather attire, Finn blinked, repeatedly sticking his head around the corner to check for Puck. Apparently <em>he<em> was supposed to do the switch himself with Puck 'keeping watch'. The coward.

"You're certain this will work, right?" The current season's quarter back asked, feeling nervous.

"Positive." The mohawked boy replied from the end of the hall, giving him a thumbs-up that the coast was clear. At his signal, Finn burst into the locker rooms, feeling amiss rapidly. What was this? Why was the girl's locker room so clean? The boy's was such a pig's sty.

After a moment there was a vicious cough from the other side of the door. _Oh, right – the clothes._ Frantically looking around, he spotted the designated gym locker and reached automatically for the heavy duty lock. _Crap, the lock._ _What was that combination again? _

* * *

><p>Outside the locker rooms, Puck was growing antsy, checking the watch on his wrist more than occasionally as he guarded the door with his broad back. What was taking Finn so long? Puck glanced at the door behind him in question. Maybe he was <em>perving<em> in there. A flash of disgust flashed across his face and he shivered, deciding it best not to go inside after all.

"Well, he'd better hurry up," The leather-cladded boy grumbled under breath. He shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning against the door and staring at his shoes.

"What are you doing?" said a familiar voice and he looked up in panic. The Latina was fuming, crossing her arms as she tried to maneuver past him – he would not let her pass easily.

"You know just hanging out…" He said, following her every movement. She frowned at him, eyes shooting at him like daggers. She really didn't need any of this weird foreplay, especially after Coach Sylvester had decided to take over regular gym classes as well. The Latina had just spent an hour getting pulverized in the face with a dodge ball and it actually made her miss Cheerio practice.

"Could you move out of the way then?" She barked, waving him aside with her hands, practically seething, though it was the _nicest _way she could possibly ask. Puck kept to his stance and her eyes narrowed at him. "Listen, 'badass' if you're not going to move, then allow me to –"

Puck's eyes widened as her clenched fists neared his face – the last thing he wanted was another fight on his school record, much less one he lost on account of the fact that the competitor was the school banshee. He fumbled over an excuse. "Fine, fine, fine! You…you want to know the truth?"

Across from him, the Latina nodded, expectantly tapping her foot. Stalling for time, Puck seized a deep breath.

"I'm perving on unsuspecting Freshmen girls again…" He leaned in, seriously whispering as convincingly as he could. The Latina's eyebrow quirked upwards in boy hung his head, shaking it side to side as he acted 'disappointed' in himself, arms still firmly protecting the door to the locker rooms. Releasing a breath, the Latina began to soften and become less speculative – she'd seen Puck go through one of his few and far spaced out bouts of guilt before.

"It's alright, Puckerman," She assured him, though she was sure to keep her distance. Sex-aholics revolted her slightly though she had admittedly been one when she was trying to sort through her sexuality. "Sue has support groups for this kind of thing."

The boy frowned suddenly. "What do you mean by 'support groups'?"

* * *

><p>A trip to Sue Sylvester's patented 'support groups' later, Puck emerged from the dank cult-like mass of people, who had tried to shave his beloved mohawk, and ambled back to the locker rooms. Eyes bulging as he snatched Finn, who had just recently deposited Quinn's clothes in the <em>Lost and Found<em>, away by the collar of his shirt, Puck hissed at him. "What the hell took so long?"

Despite being slightly frazzled, Finn recovered quickly, readjusting the collar of his shirt. "Forgot the combination."

Incredulous, the whites of Puck's eyes widened further. "How hard can it be to memorize Rachel's _birthday_!"

Frustrated, Finn scratched his head, replying back rather loudly. "You see, this is why it never worked out between _us_!"

From the corner of the hall, Sam halted as he was making his way toward his fellow teammates. He froze mid-stride and watched intently as a very red-faced Finn walked away, obviously upset. As the good teammate he was, Sam strode toward his fellow football player kindly and patted him on the back comfortingly.

"It's okay, man," The blonde athlete assured him, grinning optimistically. "Every power couple goes through this."

"What do you mean_ power couple_?" Puck asked, lip twitching.

Sam shrugged thoughtlessly. "Well you know the guys in the locker room talk about you guys..."

* * *

><p>Quickly growing red in the face, Rachel found herself unable to tear her lustful gaze away from the blonde-haired, leather-cladded girl that was slowly making her way towards her after last period, ignoring the outlandish toddle Quinn was doing due to the restrictive material that bound her.<p>

Santana's eyes flicked between the new leather outfit Quinn was sporting and the puddle of drool that was bound to appear due to the Rachel beside her. "Ay, Dios. These lovebirds will have me sick all day." She shoved Rachel slightly, pulling the shorter girl back into reality. "So, are you going to let lover girl there walk you to Glee club or am I going to have to carry your ass there myself?"

Rachel blushed, looking away from the blonde girl who had just made her way towards them with a look of pure confusion.

"Walk you to Glee?" The blonde asked again, hopefully, extending her arm, which the brunette took gainfully. The gesture was perfectly acceptable – friends linked arms all the time, but it still gave her a brief taste of the contact she craved.

Quinn was trying hopelessly, with no progress whatsoever, to complete the simple act of walking with looking like such a freak and with much less squeaking. Whoever had stolen her clothes would hear from her later… While Rachel, on the other hand, was going through her mental checklist for the day, as she clung to her suitor's arm.

Haven't exploded in anticipation of seeing Quinn all day?

_Check. _

Haven't broken out into musical soliloquy spontaneously out of frustration yet?

_Double check. _

Haven't jumped Quinn's bones, yet?

Rachel's lip quirked as she tried to suppress her trademark 'Berry-esque' (as she had heard Quinn say once in passing) smile. That last one would be hard to keep…

* * *

><p>Behind a thinly veiled façade of Mckinley High students that masked them, Puck and Finn high-fived as they watched the short brunette across the hall playfully link her arms with the awkward blonde.<p>

Operation Peacock a success?

_Check_.

Initiate Phase Two?

_Impending._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>First off, I'd like to say express my gratitude for those of you who have read and sent feedback on this fic - it makes coming up with the storyline so much easier. I tried to post this chapter earlier because of that - 3 days after the last one.

And as much as I enjoyed this fic, it will be coming to a close sometime soon - possibly, Chapter 9 or 8 will be the last of this story. But don't worry, I'll try to pursue other Faberry ideas as well through my writing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **Wasn't supposed to be so sudden but yeah, this is the last Chapter.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

A week had elapsed with no sign of Puck's _brilliant _'Phase Two', as he had described it to Finn. A part of him wanted to believe that Quinn could work this scenario out on her own, but the evidence was incriminating – there were looks, quirky and subtle and obvious in nature but no touching whatsoever. It was almost as if the blonde was afraid to touch Rachel again, for fear that she should shatter completely. The time drew near when he knew he could sit around no longer.

On arranged day, Puck had caught Sam by the arm as he exited his last class of the day, wriggling as he tried to escape the biker's grasp. "What are you doing?" Sam asked, honestly afraid until he saw that his captor was no one other than his fellow teammate. "Oh hey, Puck. What's up, man?"

"I'm sure you've noticed something been up these last few weeks, haven't you?" He asked the blonde boy, who was looking warily from side to side as Finn emerged behind the school's self-proclaimed badass with crossed arms. He thought it made him look touch but alas, it did not. "We want you to join us."

Sam's eyes widened, as he clutched his book bag tightly against his body. "What like a threesome?"

Finn knitted his eyebrows together, clarifying for his companion. "No, definitely_ not_ like a threesome. _Not at_ _all _like a threesome."

Confusion deepened on Sam's face, as he turned a bright scarlet due to his own assumptions. Puck crossed his arms, set on employing Sam's help in this situation. "While me and my boy here aren't involved in a relationship with each other, we_ are_ involved in a plot that requires your help."

A blonde eyebrow rose in curiosity and intrigue.

* * *

><p>"Sam! Do you have the hair product and chapstick?" The Jewish boy asked, sticking out his hands for the proper materials. Eagerly, he took the can and covered a mist of gruesome hairspray into the hair of the girl he had collected from the drama club for this very occurrence. He ran a palm through the mess of her hair, musing it enough to look very hooker-ish.<p>

Staring blankly at the girl who could easily pass for a hooker, Finn unhinged his mouthed. "Out of all the respect I have for you, Puck – why are we making a girl from the drama club look like…an exotic entertainer?" The girl glanced at the school quarterback, blinking at him and he smiled back at her dopily. Not usually his type, but very cute nonetheless.

"We need to make Rachel perfectly aware of the fact that dating Quinn shouldn't be taken for granted – that she'll have some competition."Puck shook his head, handing the hairspray back to Sam. "Operation Jealousy works like this: we send in some half class harlot to flirt with Quinn a little, making her look like a complete stud and Rachel will be unable to control herself and ravish–"

"Oh, please tell me you're not doing what I _think _you're doing."

Puck whirled around, eyes widening when he saw the very angry (and traditionally violent) Latina, who had linked her hands together with a curiously perplexed Brittany Pierce. Evidently upset, she released her girlfriend's hand, crossed her arms and widened her stance. "You're interfering with the progress they've made already."

Before Puck could defend himself, the Latina continued. "Don't think I'm going to let you undo all our work on the Faberry front I mean we worked hard for that-" Santana started before Brittany hushed her promptly.

"Don't say that, San. That's not all - you care about them too." Brittany teased, elbowing her miffed girlfriend slightly. The girl calmed, slipping her hand back into Brittany's. "Even Rachel,"

Grudging her lack of apathy, the Latina grumbled under breath. "Maybe I do alright…Maybe even for the crossing-dressing nymph, alright? All that time stalking her preemptively before we set them up actually proved how much crap Berry puts up with at this school...and besides, they're slightly less annoying together."

"Exactly!" Puck said, catching the strings of words muttered by the angry Latina and reprising them in his own mind. After a while of Santana's string of vulgarity, one had begun to translate her profanity into a more connotative understanding. With Santana, you had to read between the lines. Far in between. "Rachel and Quinn are good for each other. Which is why we can't let them just screw up this relationship like they _always_ do."

"Geez, you guys talk about it as if it's you're part of their relationship." Sam interjected, still the new guy in this situation and the four other Glee club members spited him. Despite this, the blonde was surprisingly not shocked about the prospect of the Quinn-Rachel relationship.

Ignoring the blonde boy's remark, Santana coughed into her hand, "What did you have in mind, Puckerman? What does this _brilliant_ plan constitute?" She laced the word 'brilliant' with a fine veil of sarcasm.

Grateful to have a say in things, the mohawked boy motioned to the scantily-cladded girl beside him, who he had met while scouring the drama club for Quinn's leather outfit. "Bimbo here…I mean,_ Stacy_ here will help us make Rachel jealous by flirting tastelessly with Quinn."

"And then Rachel will kill her?" Brittany asked very nonchalantly, making the amateur actress jump in her boots. Catching onto her unease quickly, Brittany reassured her with a gentle pat on the arm. "Don't worry, she _probably _won't."

"Yeah, like I_ probably_ won't neuter Puck if this idea doesn't work." Santana muttered, giving Stacy a once over. On one hand, if this plan didn't work out and Quinn _found out_ about their inference again, they would surely be excommunicated…On the other, Quinn had been progressing her relationship with Rachel at the speed of a one legged sloth and Rachel did deadest seem rather horny lately, especially with last week's display of leather. The diva had begun to make first period a nightmare with all her incessant, pent-up feelings about Quinn that Santana could barely take it anymore...

"Not slutty enough, Stacy." Santana ripped off the bottom part of her already thread-bare jeans, tilting her head in observation of her own work. She patted the poor girl on the back much to her horror. "This will do – get going, bimbo."

* * *

><p>"I've been thinking about our relationship –" Rachel began, nearing Quinn by her locker after school. She bit down her lip, deciding the perfect way to explain that she was ready for Quinn to at least touch her again. In the two weeks that she had decided to forgive they had-been Cheerio, they had not kissed or hugged, only so much as shook hands. The anticipation was grating, and she knew that only looking at the blonde prance around in beautiful sundresses was fueling it.<p>

Catching Quinn's fear at the words, Rachel clarified, "You've been perfectly cordial and thoughtful of my feelings the last couple weeks and as much as I don't want to rush anything I feel like the pace we're travelling at is just a little too-"

"Hey there, _Quinn_." Brown eyes widened at the scantily-cladded girl that had just purred Quinn's name as if it was the most delicious word her lips had tasted. The girl drew very close to the former cheerleader, who was squirming for a way out. Rachel bit in her lip, lying in wait. "You're looking rather _good_, today." Rachel's eye twitched at this comment. "Not that you don't any other day."

_We're friends to the public eye. _Rachel thought, though her body betrayed her, tensing. _We're friends, friends don't get jealous when concubines beginning touching their friends. _But she couldn't help the fury that was already building up inside her petite form.

"I'm sorry but I don't remember you at all-"Quinn started frantically looking back at her girlfriend.

The girl in question, who Quinn couldn't quite remember ever meeting before, trailed her finger down the blonde's lips and shushed her. "Don't speak; this is going to be magical."

Hazel eyes darted everywhere for a means of escape but she was already clutching her collar as she tried to wriggle free.

The five persons located safely around the corner of the halls, watched, tainted with guilt as the small form of Rachel Berry filled with a very livid shade of scarlet, which burned to the tips of her ears. Her small fists, which could definitely not be mistaken for 'Manhands' were shaking – they feared sincerely for the surprisingly convincing actress, who was running her fingers on Quinn's arm.

Sam shook his head, muttering to Puck quietly. "You used my hairspray for evil."

But when she held Quinn's fragile form against the lockers and proceeded to whisper into the shell of Quinn's ear, just loud enough for Rachel to hear: "You make me feel so..." – She couldn't take it anymore. Absolutely fuming, Rachel shoved the girl aside, a sudden adrenaline taking over her meager stature.

"I'm sorry but she's taken," Rachel threatened, looming over the other girl with a sudden change of air. Finn was about ready to pull Stacy out of the impending massacre when Rachel dropped her fists. Instead of looming, instead of thrashing, instead of diva-strutting away - she pulled Quinn into her arms, and cupping her face intently, pecked her crimson lips. Again. She felt them firmly now, having so long missed their taste, their softness. Eagerly, she pressed her lips to Quinn's only for a second before her paramour grudgingly retreated.

The blonde's eyes widened to twice their usual size, looking around nervously. "Rachel, people are starting to stare." The brunette temporarily dropped her gaze from Quinn's hazel eyes and scanned the corridors to find the baffled faces of her peers. Was it so strange to see the Queen Bee and the school G-loser kiss? Okay, perhaps it was but being the subject of their distaste stung less when she was certain she had the prettiest girl in school. Decisively, she wrapped her hands around the blonde's face again.

"I don't care who's watching – you're mine." She replied firmly.

"I'm yours?" Quinn repeated, scarcely believing her ears. Her fingers pierced Rachel's curtain of brown hair. "You're mine." Rachel nodded, capturing those pink, soft lips again, succumbing to the high that Quinn was giving her. She was only vaguely aware of the five people lurking behind the corridor, thinking they had been so coy with their dealings.

**End**


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